We haven’t gotten “real snow” in New Jersey in a few years, so when we get six-ish inches dumped at once, certain people panic about it, mostly in the “drive so cautiously you overcompensate and become a hazard” area.

I go out later in the afternoon, after the snow stops and the plows have been through, to grab a couple of household essentials that we somehow didn’t realize we needed before it hit.

Shockingly, I get in and out of the store with everything I need and without any major drama! It’s stopping at the fast-food place on the way home that’s the issue. All I want to do is pick up a couple of hot, greasy burgers and French fries, but the fellow at the counter, berating the employee, is making that impossible. It’s not his voice that gets my attention, however…

Customer: “Do you have any idea how freaking cold it is out right now!?”

Cashier: “You said it’s 25, so that’s pretty cold, yep.”

Customer: “Shouldn’t you have the heat on in here!?”

Cashier: “The heat is on; it’s set to 70.”

Customer: “Then it’s not working, is it!?”

Cashier: “I can only think that with the doors opening frequently, it’s letting the draft in.”

This continues on with the customer being increasingly irate, and the cashier having a pure “I don’t get paid enough for this” tone in his voice. I spend the entire time staring slightly downwards. Finally, I have to interject.

Me: “Excuse me, I just need to pick up a mobile order.”

Customer: “NOT UNTIL THIS IDIOT TURNS UP THE HEAT!

Me: “He’s not the idiot that went out in a snowstorm wearing cargo shorts and sandals then complained about the cold!”

The guy turns and faces me fully. The cashier takes a second to peek over the counter, sees his outfit, and visibly almost busts out laughing. Shorts-and-sandals-man tries to stare me down, I give a ‘what?’ sort of shrug. The cashier calls out my name, I step around and grab my bag of food, and leave the insulation-challenged fellow to figure out his place in life, and how you might need more than a puffy jacket to stay warm.

This story dredged up the memory of the very first time I saw a $2 bill in the wild. I was a wee lad in the ten-to-twelve-year range (an unfortunate number of years ago, so I can’t recall specifically) and at one of the nearby convenience stores. This was back in the day when you could walk into such a place on the corner with a $5 bill, get a few snacks and a soda, and still walk out with enough change for the next day.

I got my normal array of ice cream and chips and a small bottle, went up, and the change was just over two bucks; the cashier handed me a few coins and a 2 dollar bill!

Me: “OoooOOOooo!”

Cashier: “Yeah, someone came in and paid with a bunch of them earlier. Enjoy!”

This was when a random woman stepped up next to me.

Woman: “Oh, gimme that!”

Me: “What? NO!”

Woman: “No, I’ll give you two dollars for it!”

Me: “No thanks, I’ll keep it.”

Woman: “Kids like you don’t know what things are worth, just give it to me!”

Me: “Okay, well first off, YES I do, but even if I didn’t, you just TOLD me it’s worth something!”

To this day, I remember the look on the lady’s face when she froze up, mouth slightly opened, brow still furrowed; it was like one of those Looney Tunes where someone goes to yell, but nothing comes out. While she rebooted, I turned and went on my merry way.

I have no idea whether she collected odd money or just assumed she would get paid a lot by someone who did. For the record, I did have a tendency to hold onto oddball things for a while and then get rid of them; thankfully, the cashier I eventually paid that $2 to also thought it was neat, and I didn’t get a random hostile encounter out of it!

On New Year’s Eve, I get a notification on my phone that the burrito place my husband and I love has a two-for-one deal. Knowing what day it is, I call up at around 12:30.

Me: “Hi, I was just wondering if you guys were closing early tonight, and what time?”

Worker: *Audibly nervous.* “Yes? We’re closing at 6 PM today?”

Me: “Lovely! I was just making sure that I wouldn’t put you guys out if I placed an order for 2:15.”

Worker: “Oh! No, not at all!”

I thank her again, place my order ahead, finish up the rest of the day – also thanking whatever deities convinced our management to let us close early too – and head over to grab our overstuffed, crazy burritos.

Worker: “Oh, one second, you were the guy who actually called to check our times earlier, right?”

Me: “Well, I called, yeah, so I guess so?”

She reaches over and grabs a bottle of the hot sauce they sell and slips it in the bag!

Me: “Hang on, I didn’t—”

Worker: “You are literally the ONLY person who actually cared enough to check without yelling and screaming at us for closing early, take it, happy new year!”

Well, I couldn’t say no to that! I did, however, give a quick glance to make sure it wasn’t the ‘plain’ sauce of theirs which I hated; chipotle sauce, though, much better!

CONTENT WARNING: Pet death (old age)

If you don’t like the police, I advise you to keep scrolling, because I need to brag on a local police force that went above and beyond to bless me in an awful situation. Then again, maybe you’re the one person who should read this.

It was one of the worst nights of my life. My precious senior doggo, after giving me sixteen and a half years of unconditional love, was declining rapidly before my eyes, and as much as I had dreaded this moment for the past few years, I knew it had come. The ugly crying started as soon as that realization hit me and didn’t stop the whole time it took me to get dressed (it was 1 AM), bundle her up, and take her on what would be her last car ride.

I drove extra-slow down the highway, sobbing hysterically, driving with my left hand and petting my doggo constantly with my right, on the way to the local emergency vet, who was waiting for us.

I barely noticed a patrol car on the median as I passed it, but I did notice it make a U-turn and pull in behind me. I honestly didn’t care when the blues and reds started flashing in my rearview mirror, just give me my ticket, I thought, and let me get on with this.

We pulled over, and the lady officer came around the passenger side as I started digging in the glove box for my credentials. She shone her flashlight in the window, saw my face, and instantly read the room correctly. As I lowered the window, she gently asked, “Ma’am, are you okay?”

Still sobbing heavily, I explained the situation as best I could. She explained that she noticed how slowly I was driving and was concerned for my safety. She understood completely that I was absolutely NOT in a hurry to get to my destination.

She told me to put my paperwork away and offered to follow me to the vet to make sure I arrived safely. When I pulled up to the emergency room door, I almost didn’t notice that the officer had parked in a regular parking spot until she came up to ask me if I needed help (I had parked in a handicapped spot). I clutched my dog tighter than I did my purse as the officer accompanied me to the door and held it open for me so we could enter less awkwardly. She explained the situation to the staff, and they thanked her for helping me, as did I (I was still trying to pull myself together). She refused to leave until she knew I was calm enough to drive home and would (eventually) be okay.

A few days later, I called the police station’s non-emergency number and left a message for that officer’s lieutenant. I wanted to let them know how amazingly compassionate that officer was, and how much her kindness was needed and appreciated at that moment.

Later that night, that sweet, wonderful officer called me back to make sure I was okay and to express her sympathies. I started crying again at her thoughtfulness.

The next day, her lieutenant called me as well. First, he thanked me for taking the time to express gratitude for their service (at a time when police are receiving much more grief than they deserve, it was the least I could do). He then graciously offered for me to come visit the station and spend time with their four K-9 officers, at any time that worked for them and me.

I know not all cops are perfect–but not all members of ANY group are. Unfortunately, working in journalism taught me that “If it bleeds, it leads”, and good news (and by extension, good people) are boring. I stand by the fact that most police officers are good, hard-working, decent, helpful people, and only the bad ones make the news. The actions of those police officers that night only solidified that stance in my mind, and I will always be grateful for their compassion and caring. I will continue to pray for their safety and that of all service people.

My husband and I just celebrated our one-year wedding anniversary. We had already been together for about a decade before that, so really the only thing that changed was our tax filing status. We did, however, get to have a lovely ceremony at a local nature preserve that has a truly lovely pavilion by the lake.

The weather was perfect, the day was magical, a beautiful swan showed up in the lake just as the ceremony was starting, my brother and brother-in-law went for a pre-ceremony walk through some of the paths and came back with some Praying Mantis pals in hand / on shoulders; we almost couldn’t ask for better.

Almost.

As I said, the venue was local, specifically for us. But both my and my husband’s family is spread out widely, between one and four hours’ drive away. However, it was our wedding, and we had already made the trip out to visit others plenty of times before for birthdays, holidays, and yes, weddings! Siblings, cousins, and in-laws were all happy to come celebrate with us, with the only negative commentary coming from my mother.

She just didn’t understand why we wanted to have our wedding “in the middle of nowhere.” “Nowhere” is the town I grew up in, where she had lived with my father for decades before he passed, and she moved back up to the city. She complained on behalf of everyone else about all the traveling and expense and difficulty and accommodations, and everything else.

No complaints actually FROM them, of course. My then-fiancé checked with my brother to make sure everything was okay, and my bro backed up my statement that my mom just liked to share rumors and gossip to get people talking to her, because she always needed some amount of attention. Even if that attention caused problems for others, because she just kept picking at old wounds that everyone else had already gotten past.

On our wedding, though? NOT acceptable, and I had words with her, calmly and in private, but just a reminder that today was NOT her day, she was NOT allowed to start causing grief, she could, in fact, simply talk with the family and enjoy a nice day like everyone else did.

Apparently, my mother took this as both an insult and a challenge, because the “rumors” started going twice as fast. This person was commenting on their in-law’s weight. That one was trying to get others to pay for their hotel. Cousin’s plus one was actually a vegan and was talking nonsense about the meat at the meal. Uncle was talking about how a same-sex couple wasn’t right.

LITERALLY NONE OF IT WAS TRUE.

She went from sharing/exaggerating actual things to just inventing problems to drive a wedge between people. All with this impish little smile on her face, like she was playing a harmless prank.

Nope. Not on our wedding. Explosions went off. Shouting occurred.

Mom was kicked out of the wedding, and everyone either turned off phones or blocked her because, OF COURSE, she had to start calling people before even leaving the parking lot. Apparently, she thought she could start a family civil war and get others to leave with her? I don’t know, but there was so much less tension and bad mood after she left.

My cousin was the one who delivered the message that my husband and I would talk to her again when she apologized, and swore to never pull such a stunt again.

So, what brought up this memory? As I said, we just celebrated the one-year anniversary of our wedding… And of the so-far last time we talked to my mother.

CORRECTION: This story was incorrectly tagged as ‘Right’ instead of ‘Related’.